


Winter Reunion

by y2kjoons



Category: Love Island (Video Game)
Genre: Baking, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Love Island: The Game Season 2, Post-Villa (Love Island: The Game), Reunions, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:08:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22025332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/y2kjoons/pseuds/y2kjoons
Summary: It's official; there's not going to be a Love Island Season 2 reunion. Bobby and Chelsea are determined to take matters into their own hands.
Relationships: Bobby/Main Character (Love Island)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	Winter Reunion

“Babes, did you hear? I’m absolutely fuming,” Chelsea says almost immediately as you press accept on her FaceTime request.

“Hear about what?” you ask.

“Haven’t you checked your messages today?” she sighs before continuing.

For reasons unknown, Chelsea was the first to get the news about the reunion – namely that there would be none this year - so it only made sense that you, her best friend, confidante, and bra would be the second to know.

“It’s just so unfair!” She huffs as she stomps out of frame on your phone screen.

At this point you two have been Facetiming for a little over an hour; about forty minutes of which has been comprised of her ranting – an admittedly adorable combination of high-heeled pacing and whispered expletives through pursed, glossy lips - about not being able to formally meet up with all her friends for the holidays.

About fifteen minutes was dedicated to you consoling her and reassuring her that you two absolutely would meet up sometime soon, official reunion or not.

The remaining five minutes was you making funny faces and telling really bad puns in an effort to cheer her up. It only worked for a little bit before she started going off again.

You watch, lying belly down on the living room couch in yours and Bobby’s shared apartment, as she paces once more across the screen.

You’re actually kind of impressed that she’s managed to be this angry for this long. Chelsea wasn’t one to get upset and even when she did, she didn’t stay that way for long.

“We’ve _literally_ been unofficially planning this for ages they can’t just do that! I mean,” she sighs stopping to pick up her phone which had been propped up on her dresser. She looks directly into the camera, at you, and there’s a palpable sense of hurt in those ocean blue eyes that just breaks your fuckin’ heart.

“How are you to enjoy the holidays if you can’t spend them with your loved ones? That’s, like, the whole point!” She pauses and looks away for a moment.

“I miss you,” she continues. “And I miss hanging out with everyone else from the villa.” Oof.

Under normal circumstances, hearing Chelsea refer to you as a loved one that she missed would make your heart soar, but right now her words created a sinking feeling in your chest.

This reunion obviously meant the world to her and to see someone so sweet and caring get something they wanted so badly taken away from them almost made you want to march down to ITV headquarters and demand a reunion yourself. Almost.

Sure, you cared about the other islanders _to a degree_ ; you’d all shared a confined living space for a month straight with no outside communication, it’d be bonkers if you didn’t bond with anyone at all. But you’d be lying if you said you were hard pressed for quality time with most of them.

Your “summer of love” was supposed to be spent, you know, _finding love in the summer._ Instead, most of it was spent being dragged into petty arguments that had absolutely nothing to do with you about who kissed who and who did what behind someone’s back and goddamn if the words “Girl Code” don’t instantly set off your fight or flight instincts to this day. You’d be totally fine never seeing some of those clowns again.

That being said…you could, admittedly, think of less entertaining things to do over the holidays. 

Despite any differences you may have had with the other islanders, it definitely would have been… _interesting_ to catch up with everyone, friends and people-you-didn’t-dislike-enough-to-consider-foes-but-didn’t-like-enough-to-consider-friends alike.

It’d been hell trying to contend with everyone’s conflicting schedules what with the new career prospects everyone’s been getting thanks to their time as Love Island contestants.

Between the numerous talk show appearances, photoshoots, Instagram adverts, brand deals, and all other manner of public relations micro-celebrity fuckery your fellow former islanders have been up to, there was simply no time to reconvene like you’d all planned to during the final few days of the competition. You were lucky to get a spare phone call in with the ones you actually liked.

Throw in the fact that you used the 50k you won with your boyfriend Bobby to get a flat in his hometown, it was practically a given that the next time you would catch up with your friends in person (most of whom were living at least a couple hundred miles away from your new home in Glasgow) would be during some kind of winter reunion.

Everyone assumed something would be arranged near Christmas. At this point, Christmas had already came and gone, but just about every former islander expected for _something_ to be arranged by the end of the holiday season. At least until now. 

You sit up from your relaxed position on the couch and offer the blonde on the other end of the phone a sad smile.

“I miss you too, Chels,” you reply as you absentmindedly run your fingers through your hair. “But I’m sorry, babes, it looks like it’s out of our control now.”

Chelsea simply sighs in response and stalks over to her closet, phone still in one hand, rifling frantically through her clothes with the other.

“My whole mood is ruined! I _hate_ going to bed upset,” she huffs while shuffling through a bevy of unseen clothing hangers. She gasps and, almost instantly, her eyes light up as if she’s spotted what she’s been looking for. “Can’t believe I nearly forgot!” she exclaims.

She grabs two separate items offscreen before switching to the back camera and rushing to the full-length mirror on the other end of her bedroom. She shifts the camera up so the focus is on the reflection of the two identical baby pink sweaters in her hand. She holds them both up to her torso and raises a quizzical eyebrow.

“What d’you think’s right for brunch tomorrow? Rose or rouge?”

If someone held you at gunpoint and told you to differentiate the two or die, you’d just have to let them pull the trigger because there’s no way in hell those are two different sweaters.

You take a stab in the dark and tell her to go with rose.

She perks up instantly. “That’s exactly what I was hoping you’d say,” she squeals and bounds off to hang up both of her sweaters. “Be right back,” she calls out, tossing her phone onto her bed.

You can’t help but smile at the sound of her humming happily offscreen. If there’s one thing you can’t fault her for, it’s her ability to bounce back.

You take advantage of the relative quiet to yawn and stretch and rub your tired eyes.

A quick glance at the clock tells you it’s just past midnight. The winter sun has long since sunk below the horizon and the fatigue is **really** starting to hit.

You’d been able to ignore how tired you were the whole time you were on the phone with Chelsea, but something about checking the time makes it feel all the more intense, doesn’t it?

You tap your leg incessantly in an effort to stave off some sleepiness for the time being.

Your levelheaded brain, the one that needs the sleep to function like a proper human, is telling you, “Don’t be stupid. You are tired. Go to bed.”

As for your irrational, lovesick, dummy brain? “No thoughts, head empty, just really wanna fuckin’ see Bobby when he comes home.”

He didn’t make a habit of coming home late, but things had been a bit different lately.

After months of working, saving, budgeting, and planning, he’d finally gotten started on the process of opening his own bakery. This meant lots of meetings with important people about logistics and lots of late nights for the both of you. Which you were both okay with, it just meant adjusting your daily routine.

He told you this morning as you were brushing your teeth that he’d be coming home later than usual tonight and wanted to know if you were up for it.

He knows you love being the first thing he sees when he comes home.

You know he loves it when you’re the first thing he sees when he comes home.

He also knows you love sleep. And getting you to stay up later than you had to was going to be a Herculean task to say the absolute least.

“All I’m saying,” you slurred through a mouthful of toothpaste. “Is we always greet each other after work. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I let a little bit of sleep deprivation get in the way of that?”

Bobby gazed at you lovingly from his position sat on the bathroom counter. He thinks you’re an absolute vision clad in his favorite shirt, the one he promised to give you after you demolished that cake during the challenge in the villa.

“Appreciate the enthusiasm, lass, but you don’t have to stay up if you’re tired,” he said.

“But I do!” you reply defiantly. "That’s our thing y’know?” You spit before you continue.

“When I come home first, I’m there for you. You come home first, you’re there for me,” you emphasize your words with wild hand gestures, causing stray foamy bits of toothpaste to fly off your toothbrush. 

“It’s a good system! I’ll be fine,” you reassure him. “I’m not going to bed without seeing you first, Bobby, and that’s a promise.”

“Bet you tap out before I even walk through the front door.”

He can practically see the glint of mischief in your eyes at the word “bet”.

You rinse, temporarily hiding the grin slowly spreading on your face. He knows full well you never back down from a bet.

“Are you challenging me?” You wipe your mouth and turn to face him fully.

“Bobby McKenzie, do you even know who you’re talking to?” You gesture to your shirt. “I don’t lose bets,” you quirk up a playful eyebrow. “Especially not against you, my love. Ya girl lives for a challenge. And making you eat your words is my life blood.”

“Alright,” he smirks. “If you’re still awake when I get home, I’ll let you keep my favorite bandana.”

Oh man, his favorite bandana? The objectively ugly white one with the black utensils on it? The one he always wore whenever he was baking? The one that never matched any fit he wore ever but he still insisted on wearing no matter how much it clashed? He must be really confident in himself this time.

“I’m liking these stakes. And what’s in it for you if I lose?”

He chuckles. He’s not fully convinced you’ll win this one, but he’s still more than eager to see you try.

“The look on your face when I finally win a bet against you will be prize enough.”

Sold.

“You’re on. Better kiss that bandana goodbye, Bobs, it’s as good as mine now.” You place a quick kiss on his freckle-dusted cheek before sauntering out of the bathroom.

_I haven’t lost a bet to you yet, McKenzie, and I don’t plan on doing so anytime soon. Nothing’s going to keep me from staying awake._

Easier said than done, but moms ain’t raise no quitter. You stifle another yawn behind your hand. Repeatedly throughout the night you’ve had to stop yourself from brewing a cup of coffee. Because that would be cheating.

“And cheating,” you mutter to yourself, bringing your knees up to your chest. “is for cowards. And _I am not a coward._ ”

With nothing but sheer stubbornness and determination on your side, _you were going to keep good on your word_.

As if on cue, your thoughts are punctuated by the sound of the front door opening. 

Has to be Bobby.

 _I win,_ you think smiling to yourself.

“Honey! I’m home,” he bellows in a singsong voice as he walks in and shuts the door behind him.

The sound of his voice hits you like a shot of much needed espresso. Partially because you won the bet but also because you’re incredibly in love with this dork and his presence alone makes you feel like you could run a marathon.

You hop up from your spot on the couch, suddenly more playful with him around. “OH SHIT! Is that who I think it is?” you muse in an exaggerated WWE announcer voice, as you make your way over to him. “The man! The myth! The legend! It’s CAPTAIN! B! SMOOTH!”

He flexes while you make ridiculous airhorn sounds to hype him up before you both dissolve into a fit of giggles. He wraps you in his arms and plants scattered, haphazard kisses all over your face before placing the very last one, soft and lingering, on your lips.

“Huh. Guess I shouldn’t have underestimated you,” he says, his tone half surprised, half impressed, and 100% proud. “Wanted the bandana that bad, did you?”

“Aw, babe, it was never about the bandana. Just wanted you to know how serious I am about seeing you before I go to bed.”

You give his hand a gentle squeeze and peck him on the lips. “I won’t say no to a mug of your famous hot chocolate though.”

He smiles and boops you on the nose. “Got it.”

As he makes his way to the kitchen, the atmosphere is permeated by the sound of sniffling coming from the couch. 

“Ugh, you two are just adorbs!”

Shit, almost forgot Chelsea’s still on the phone. You grab your phone from the couch to see her once-again crestfallen face on the screen.

“It’s moments like these I was looking forward to seeing in person!”

“Chels, that you?” Bobby calls out from the kitchen. “What are you talking about?”

“You know! About the reunion,” she exclaims exasperatedly. “Does nobody check their messages anymore?”

Chelsea gives him a long-winded recap of what’s happened as he works on the hot chocolate. He brings you your mug, complete with marshmallows and an extra tall heaping of whipped cream and settles in next to you on the couch with his own mug as Chelsea finishes speaking.

“That’s bollocks,” Bobby comments beside you peering forlornly into his mug.

“I know! That’s what I’ve been saying,” Chelsea says. “There’s gotta be something we can do.” She taps her chin thoughtfully.

“I know! We could always have our own unofficial thing and invite everybody! Maybe we could get a venue or something? I know loads of cute places in London where we could meet.”

Bobby shifts in his spot. “Wouldn’t that be a bit expensive though? Besides,” he takes a sip from his mug nestled comfortably in his nimble fingers. “I’ve got a bunch of stuff that needs getting done with the bakery so travelling wouldn’t be ideal.”

You set your mug down on the coffee table and nuzzle into his side. It’s not like you don’t care about what they’re talking about, but right now you’re warm and full of hot cocoa. All signs point to sleep time.

The gentle rise and fall of Bobby’s chest while he breathes lulls you deeper into lethargy as he and Chelsea brainstorm places everyone could meet up.

It sounds as though they’ve given up after a couple minutes before you finally speak up.

“We’ve got the space, we could just say fuck it and host the thing here,” you mutter jokingly still half-asleep.

Complete silence follows your offhand comment. You think nothing of it and start to drift completely to sleep until-

“OHMIGOD BABES YOURE ACTUALLY A GENIUS!”

You startle awake to hear Chelsea and Bobby cheer and praise your idea and chat animatedly about actually doing the thing at your apartment. Like actually doing it.

“Whoa, wait hold up I wasn’t being _serious_ ,” you begin.

“What? Babes, no! You’re _so_ right,” Chelsea interjects. “That idea’s ace, we can’t not do it!”

“Well…”

“Lass, it’s perfect,” Bobby says enthusiastically. “Chelsea can decorate!”

“And Bobby can bake!” Chelsea chimes.

“I dunno,” you halfheartedly protest. Not entirely jazzed about this but going to bed is the number one thing on your mind right now. “Everyone else lives so far away.”

“Don’t even worry about it!” Chelsea’s buzzing on her end. “Leave it to me! I swear I can convince everyone to make the trip up there.”

“Like you said we’ve got plenty of space for everyone!” Bobby says.

“Can we have our own reunion here? Pleeeaaase? Pretty please?” He clasps his hands together and gets on his knees in a pleading motion and looks up to face you. 

Oh no. Oh God. No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

He’s doing it.

_He’s fucking doing it._

He’s making t h e f a c e.

He knows you can’t resist it when he makes t h e f a c e.

The one where his warm hazel eyes grow large and soft, and he pouts so his lower lip pokes out ever so slightly and makes the faintest outline of his dimple appear and DON’T YOU SEE HOW CUTE HE IS HOW CAN YOU DENY THAT FACE-

“Alright, fine! Jesus,” you exclaim shielding your eyes with one arm and playfully swatting him away with the other. “We’ll do the fuckin’ thing at our place! You’ve successfully exploited my weakness for you.” 

Him and Chelsea cheer in unison as you straighten up and reach for your mug.

 _Guess that’s what you get when your boyfriend and best friend are natural people pleasers,_ you think as you take a drowsy sip. 

“On one condition…” you add.

Bobby and Chelsea look at you with bated breath.

“I get to be little spoon tonight,” you wink in Bobby’s direction.

“Done!” He engulfs you in a tight embrace, careful not to spill your hot chocolate. You’re tired but your heart is full from the affection you receive from the two people you care about most.

_Alright. I guess we’re actually doing this._

It didn’t really hit you until a few hours later. Snuggled comfortably in your bed, Bobby’s arms wrapped around you for once rather than the other way around. The realization sobers up your fatigue-addled brain quick.

_I’m gonna have to host a party for almost 30 people in my own home, most of whom I don’t even like._

Bobby stirs slightly beside you as you rub your temples.

_What the fuck did I just agree to?_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I haven't written a fic for anything since I was in middle school so sorry if it seems incoherent or disjointed. but I had so much fun writing this! I've got at least two (2) more chapters planned for this particular story so stay tuned :)


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